What We Are Meant To Be
by PinkGloom
Summary: Part two to 'What We Are' one-shot. Slash. Now that Sherlock realized that John is his happiest memory, will the Hufflepuff feel the same?


A/N: There is the promised part 2! Some day I want to take this AU farther but for now I want to write a pirate AU and a western AU. Although I suppose I need to first the other three stories I'm working on...Why is it so easy to put Johnlock in every AU possible?!

...this is less 'smutty' than I intended. If you all would like full out SMUT than please tell me and I will make this lovely fanfic into a three parter.

It was a few hours after the attack but Sherlock couldn't get close enough to the fire to remove the lingering feeling of coldness under his skin. For once, John's habit of keeping chocolate bars worked out for something more than just a midnight snack and they had both eaten the chocolate greedily.

Sherlock had managed to eat more than half a bar even though it had been thick in his throat and chocolate coated the top of his mouth. He and John had barely exchanged more than a few words since they had escaped the dementrors and fled the Forbidden Forest.

As soon as they had arrived in the empty Hufflepuff common room, Sherlock had reached for John's hand again. They had walked hand in hand out of the forest but had released hands once they had been back in the castle's walls. Sherlock had missed the contact and had wanted to grab at John's hand as soon as they were alone again. The Hufflepuff raised no protest.

John's fingers gripped his hand tighter and their fingers interlaced. The smaller boy's thumb stroked the top of Sherlock's hand. All the Ravenclaw could do was close his eyes and concentrate on the warming touch and the fire that was trying to unthaw him.

For a brief, horrid second in the Forbidden Forest, Sherlock had wondered if he would ever be warm again. It was hard to believe that only an hour later he was safe and warm and _alive _with John. Sherlock had never known that something that had been so common place, even boring before could now feel like a miracle.

John remained oddly silent and Sherlock didn't puch the other boy into talking. There was still so much to try and process; everything that had happened that evening weighted heavily in his stomach. Even though he had so much to tell John the Ravenclaw was thankful for the silence.

They sat like that, fingers intertwined in silence and Sherlock began to nod off. He was so drained and all he wanted to do was sleep for the next week straight.

"What was it?"

Sherlock's eyes blinked at the sound of John's voice. It was rough and Sherlock knew he hadn't been the only one falling asleep. He had figured that John would want to know; it was only natural. Still that didn't mean that he wanted to tell the other boy. The feeling was still so new and Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet.

Sherlock didn't want to break the warm cocoon they had woven around themselves and the fire. His free hand went up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to stall for time. John remained quiet and waited for Sherlock to speak.

Closing his eyes, Sherlock began. "It was hard to place, never been good with that sentiment drivel." The Ravenclaw didn't need to open his eyes to see the smile tugging at John's lips. "I guess for once it was better that I shut down my mind. It was easy once I had done that. I can see why it came to you so quickly, John. You've always been so aware of others and yourself."

Sherlock knew he was stalling for time. But at the same time there was something liberating at his words. Words tumbled from him; words that, like his happiest memory, he had never known were so desperate to be heard. "It really came as no surprise. All so obvious, really. It's you John. Although when one thinks about it, who else could it be? I had sincerely hoped that it won't be a person but an event or object. I suppose I am not as thick skinned as I once thought."

Finally opening his eyes, Sherlock stared at the fire. That way he could blame the burning behind his eyes on the bright light in the darkened room. His emotions were still running high...he had almost just died. _John had almost died. _"You remember the Yule Ball? I wanted to go with Victor but for all the wrong reasons. I saw the way you looked at Mary and something, something inside me couldn't bear it...I just couldn't. I had been so busy gauging your reactions to her that I never checked her's for you. That's because her feelings for you didn't matter to me-"

His mouth couldn't stop. It just keep going and Sherlock's words jumbled together. _John has to understand. He just has too! _English seemed inadequate for telling John everything he needed to know. Why was English such a useless language? Sherlock's eyes never wavered from the fire. When John squeezed his hand, he paused, looking for the needed words and willing his heartbeat to even out.

"You're an idiot." John's voice was low.

"I suppose you're right." Sherlock hated to admit it but he had been. Once the curtain was pulled back it was all so _obvious. _

"I'm your happiest memory?" His voice was only above a whisper. It sounded unbelieving and so, so small. Sherlock finally turned to it.

John was looking at him, his gaze almost hard, searching Sherlock's features. The flames played on John's face and Sherlock could see just how tired and worn the Hufflepuff was. As much as he wanted to fight it, Sherlock knew he would have to go to his own dorm soon.

"John, maybe we should-"

"I thought I couldn't be that to you." John interrupted Sherlock like he hadn't even been speaking. "I thought- how could I matter to you, like you matter to me?"

John's lips tugged up in a smile. His eyes finally softened and his thumb pressed into Sherlock's skin. They stared at each other, both unsure of what to do next. Just like the Patronus Charm, thoughts weren't enough to express everything, John needed to feel the energy running through him. To show John that he would never be whole unless he was with him.

Sherlock dipped his head down and pressed his lips softly to John's parted ones. John's body relaxed at the touch, slumping into it. The Hufflepuff tasted like milk chocolate and Sherlock felt a new affection for the sweet. Lips were pliable and bent to Sherlock's touch.

John shifted his body and worked his way into Sherlock's lap. The Ravenclaw welcomed the calming weight, the ultimate reassurance that John was indeed alive. Their lips parted and foreheads were pressed together.

"I was so certain I was going to loss you." Sherlock could feel John's eyebrows knitting together. "I can't live in a world were you aren't." His hands moved up to frame John's face. Sherlock tilted John's face down and placed a kiss on his forehead. Working his way around the smaller boy's face, Sherlock kissed his nose, cheeks and finally each of his closed eyelids.

When John opened his eyes again it was only half-way. His pupils were blown and they glowed in the firelight. John's head tilted into Sherlock's touch. He licked his lips and slowly lowered them back onto Sherlock's mouth.

It started off like their first kiss, soft and warm. Soon John wanted more and he wasn't afraid to show Sherlock how insistent and demanding his kisses could be. Sherlock was lost in the tide of strong lips and hands gripping his shoulders. John's fingers bruised into his skin and all he wanted was for John to push harder. Every cell of his body craved the pain that was some how soothing, in the way it demanded very part of him.

John's tongue worked its way into Sherlock's mouth. It slide against his own tongue and Sherlock hummed at the connection. The Ravenclaw's hand slide down from John's face and rested on his chest. He could feel John's heart pounding against his ribcage.

Heat began to pool in Sherlock's abdomen at the knowledge he could bring such excitement to John. Who was he to excite the softer emotions in another person? There had only ever been John. As a friend- now, as so much more. Only John.

There were too many clothes blocking Sherlock's aching fingers from sliding up against the smooth skin he longed to touch. His hands moved down lower until he could slide his finger tips up John's untucked school shirt and vest.

John ground against his lap and Sherlock knew there was no way that the other boy hadn't noticed the bulge that was now pressing up against him. Even though embarrassment started to nag at his mind, Sherlock was able to push it away- there was now no need to hide his desire from John.

The Hufflepuff gasped and sucked in his stomach as Sherlock's fingers gently stroked the skin above his trousers. He bit at Sherlock's lower lip and finally released a low groan as fingers worked their way higher up his layers of clothing. John's skin was soft and Sherlock could feel the muscles that were taut from Quidditch practice gliding underneath his touch. The Ravenclaw couldn't wait until he could taste every one of them under his tongue.

John dragged his mouth away so he could groan as Sherlock's fingers played along his nipple. His skin was already sensitized and goosebumps spread over his arms as his nipples hardened further. Sherlock rolled pink flesh between his thumb and index finger.

John tilted his mouth down and began to kiss a opened mouth line down Sherlock's jaw to his neck. The smaller boy's tongue played along Sherlock's adam apple. Throwing his head back, Sherlock purred at the feeling of teeth nibbling his flesh.

If Sherlock had realized it could be like this, he would have pressed a kiss to the Hufflepuff the first time he had smiled at him; the first time he had viewed John H. Watson as someone more than just ordinary- because _this _was more extraordinary then he could have ever imagined.


End file.
